


Lessons Learned

by Artsortment



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Boys, Coda, Gen, S9E7, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artsortment/pseuds/Artsortment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to S9E7 "Bad Boys." Basically a fic about what's going on with John and the boys before and after Dean is in Sonny's Boys' Home. Teen rating for swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons Learned

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed. This was basically a response to a tumblr post that ran away from me and turned into a fic.

This wasn’t the first time that Dean had played cards with the money that John had left him to provide for himself and Sammy. Sometimes John just didn’t leave enough money and Dean had to figure out some way of putting food on the table, or buying random other things like that clear cover report portfolio thing that Sam needed to turn his paper in with or else he’d be marked down 10%. _“10% Dean!”_ John didn’t care how Dean made the extra money, so long as it got done. The first time Dean lost badly enough at cards that he couldn’t recover, he called John, asking his Dad to wire them some extra cash because Sammy’d had another growth spurt and his teachers were starting to notice the fact that none of his pants fit. John growled at Dean over the phone and absolutely refused to send any more money. “I’m not made of money and it’s not my fault you were dumb shit enough to lose it! You figure it out! And don’t let those CPS vultures get there hands on Sammy or you’ll be sorry Dean!” So Dean turned to theft and other means to get Sammy what he needed when cards didn’t pan out as a way to stretch John’s money further. Dean was pretty sure John knew, about the theft at least, but he didn’t say anything. So Dean figured that was as much of a “good job” as he was going to get and kept on doing what he had to do.

Only this time he got caught. John didn’t even come down to the police station when the cops called him. He just shouted at Dean over the phone about how stupid he was. After all, if Dean couldn’t pay attention enough to notice a fucking security camera, how was he going to pay attention enough to not be a liability on a hunt? Dean just sat quietly as his father raged on the phone to him before handing it back over to the officer. Dean winced as the words “let him rot” carried through the air before looking up at the officer who was staring at the now dead phone in shock. In the car, John furiously threw his phone into the passenger seat. It bounced off the side door and clattered onto the floor. He growled to himself as he drove back to the motel to pick up Sammy. Dean fucking knew better than to get caught stealing. A few months in juvie should teach him a lesson or two about being careful.

John immediately took Sam to Bobby’s. John couldn’t be bothered to deal with Sam on the road without Dean to look after him. He fed Bobby a lie about Dean going missing on a hunt so Bobby would take Sammy in without question. After all, of course John would want to be able to look for Dean without worrying about Sam. Bobby promised to look after him, and was the one who told Sam what had happened to Dean himself, heart breaking as Sam stood their stoically, clearly holding back tears, as he told Bobby that “Dean will be fine when Dad finds him. Dean’s the best. No way a stupid monster could take him out.” Bobby pulled Sam to him in a fierce bear hug and whispered assurances into his ear and pretended he couldn’t feel Sam’s chin wobbling even as his shoulder remained dry.

When John checked his phone a few months later, he found several messages waiting for him from the police. Turned out, the charges had been dropped against Dean and he’d been placed in a boy’s home run by some guy called Sonny. John wrote down the number the officer in the message provided and called this ‘Sonny’ right away wanting to know what kind of place they’d stuck his boy in. John had not been expecting what the man who answered the phone had to say. The second John identified himself as Dean’s father, Sonny started happily talking about how well Dean was doing. Won a wrestling championship, was learning to play guitar, doing really well in school, he even had a date for the school dance this weekend! John hung up on the man, jaw clenched. He’d left Dean to be punished for screwing up. Not to win trophies and go on dates! Every second the kid was there he was growing soft, and John couldn’t have that. Besides, he had a hunt that could use a second pair of hands, and Dean was the closest hunter to the job. So John drove straight to Bobby’s to pick up Sam, not even giving Bobby an explanation beyond “I found Dean.” Sammy quickly stopped asking questions about Dean when each one was met with stony silence.

John was gruff and curt with the man who answered the door, Sonny he presumed. The man pleaded with him to come back tomorrow - it was the school dance and real important to Dean. John ground his teeth. No son of his was going to a stupid dance when he could be doing something useful, like hunting the ghoul two towns over. He ordered Sonny to bring Dean out to the car in ten minutes, and no he wouldn’t like to fucking come inside, but he would call the authorities if Sonny kept his son from him any longer. Stalking back to the car to wait for Dean, John noticed Sammy playing with the model airplane he’d built with Bobby. The thing was big and took up more space than any of Sam’s other toys. He made a mental note to make Sammy leave it in the next motel. Impala was cramped enough as it was without crap like that taking up room.

John got out of the car as Dean neared, ordering Sam to stay inside when the boy looked ready to leap out at the first sight of Dean. He gave quick instruction that Dean was to tell Sam that he’d disappeared on a hunt and had only just gotten to this Sonny guy’s house and called John two days ago. When Dean started to object, John growled. “You don’t do as I say, and I’ll tell Sammy exactly why his big brother was gone for two months. He gonna look at you the same once he knows his big brother’s a thief?”

Dean’s eyes went wide at the thought of Sammy knowing what he did. Sammy was the reason he’d come back anyway. Someone needed to watch out for the kid, be a buffer between him and John, make sure he got fed and the stuff he needed. After all, who else was going to do it if not Dean? It wasn't like Sammy could stay at Bobby’s forever. Dean nodded and mumbled “yes sir” before walking the final few feet to the car and climbing in the front seat.

He hugged Sammy tightly over the backrest, burying his face in his brother’s hair and taking in a deep breath to center himself. He answered Sammy’s yammering questions about where he’d been, and was he scared all by himself, choosing “I don’t want to talk about it” and “I’m just glad to be home” as default answers to most questions. He noticed Sam’s new model airplane and was quickly able to side track his younger brother from asking where he’d been with a “where’d you get the plane Sammy?” The sound of Sammy telling Dean all about building it with Bobby and how Bobby knew all the correct decals and markings to paint it real authentic filled the car all the way to the motel.

Dean ended up throwing out some of the stuff he’d gotten at Sonny’s to make room in his duffel to hide Sammy’s model plane. After all, he didn’t really like that CO2 dragster he’d made in woodshop much anyway. And it wasn’t like he needed the wrestling gear Sonny’d bought him from the second hand shop anymore. The plane quickly became their secret. The special toy that only got brought out when John wasn’t around. Every time he saw Sammy smile while playing with it, Dean was glad he’d decided to come back. It was worth it for Sam to be happy and taken care of. Sammy was important, and it was Dean’s responsibility, and what kind of brother would he be if he abandoned him? Dean was happy to be back with John and Sammy. He certainly never missed what he’d left behind. It certainly wasn’t killing him.

Ten years later, Sammy’s model plane was destroyed in a Palo Alto apartment when it caught fire under mysterious circumstances, and the piece of Dean that dreamed of getting out of the family business and being a mechanic or a rock star was long dead and buried.


End file.
